Many Meanings
by mywarisalreadywon
Summary: AU where Mary wasn't killed by a demon, it was just a fire, and John went insane and thought that monsters were real. Bigger summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**So I read another story about an AU where Mary wasn't killed by a demon, it was just a fire, and John went insane and thought that monsters were real. I liked that idea so much that I decided to write my own version of how I think things should have gone if that had happened. The original idea goes to Cappoquin's Calling and the story is called When There's No Hope Left, but this story is mine. If they see this and feel like it's too much like theirs, I'm sorry, think of this as my fanfic of your story. But really, I tried to make it as different as possible. I made the boys older; I made them act differently, but not so much that they aren't the same character; I made John a background character that only has flashback-type scenes; I really did try to make it different. Also, this is about current season for Criminal Minds. You'll see why later on.**

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.**

**Enjoy and review!**

* * *

It was a trail, left behind so that someone might be able to catch him. Most killers wanted to be caught, at least subconsciously, and this one was no different. He had seemed surprised as they cornered him, but he had been arrested with only a minimum of fuss. They only had to check his motel room for remaining evidence. Jennifer "J.J." Jareau only hoped that there weren't any bodies hidden in the room.

That was when her phone rang. Not that it was a huge inconvenience, because they were just checking out the room, but it was something the team all stopped at.

"Garcia, we're about to go in, what's up?" she asked. She was worried the UnSub had confessed to booby trapping the room and technical analyst Penelope Garcia was calling to tell them that they would get shot if they went in (stranger things had happened with a crazy UnSub).

"The reports!" Garcia exclaimed. "I missed it before, and I don't know how, but all the people who escaped didn't just get lucky and happen to get away! They were let go! One specifically says that there was a partner!" J.J. had put her phone on speaker so that the rest of the team could hear her.

"A partner? How did we miss that?" Derek Morgan demanded.

"He's male according to the reports. Some imply that they were let go, but they don't state it for sure and they just say 'he' so everyone assumed 'he' was the UnSub," she elaborated. "The one that specifically mentions him says that he told her to run and said he would try to hold the other man off. That was Christina Wilkens' report. She said that he wasn't as big as the other man, and seemed much more hesitant to attack."

"So it's an unwilling partner, but he still has to help," Spencer Reid said. "Maybe he's a prisoner too, except, instead of being killed, he _has_ to help."

"Does the Winchester have a son?" Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner asked. His colleagues followed his thinking.

"A son _would_ feel obligated to do what his father says," Reid commented, "and he might even be scared to disobey his father, so he helps."

"But he still knows it's wrong, so he tries to help people escape whenever he can," David Rossi added.

"Our guy has two sons; ages eleven and fifteen," Garcia said.

"It's probably the fifteen-year-old," Reid said. "He'd be bigger, but still not as big as his father. He'd also be more willing to help if that meant protecting the younger brother."

"Where's the mother?" Emily Prentiss spoke up.

"Dead," Garcia said. "House fire in '83."

"The older boy would have been four," Reid informed them. "He might have even seen it happen and tries to keep his father happy because he's the only parent left."

"What are their names?" Prentiss asked.

"Older boy is Dean younger boy is Sam," Garcia said before hanging up.

"Dean was _trying_ to get his dad caught," J.J. said.

"He wants this to be over," Hotch agreed.

"So it's a cry for help," J.J. said. The others shared looks of agreement and they moved to enter the motel room. They pulled their guns, because nobody knew what they would find on the other side of that door, and announced that they were FBI. Rossi slowly opened the door. Standing in the room was a tall, well-muscled but still lanky, young man with a smaller boy hiding behind him.

"Dean? Your name is Dean, right?" J.J. asked gently. "And that's Sam?" At Sam's name, Dean's eyes widened slightly and he took a step back to protect the boy a little more.

"Sammy," Dean said. His voice was low and clam, but his eyes were wide and terrified. He also wasn't talking to them.

"Go."

"Dean –"

"Go," Dean said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was definitely an order. "They'll keep you safe." Dean's bright green eyes bore into J.J.'s light blue eyes; he demanded her promise of safety with his gaze.

"Dean's right." J.J. nodded. "You're safe with us." Dean reached behind his back and gave Sam a little push towards them.

"Come on Sam, it's okay." Rossi called out. Sam was about a foot away from Rossi's hand when he darted back to Dean and wrapped his arms tightly around his big brother's abdomen. Dean hugged him back. They let go and Dean cupped Sam's cheek and urged him to go with them.

"You'll be safe with them, Sammy. You'll be able to go to school again, and you can have a real family," Dean said. J.J. didn't miss the tears that shined bright in his eyes as he said these things.

"You're my real family," Sam said stubbornly.

"And I'll be right behind you," Dean said.

"Promise?"

"Promise." Sam nodded and turned around, walking to Rossi again. Rossi left the room with Sam as the young boy forced himself to believe that Dean hadn't lied about coming with him. Dean had been different for the past couple of months, distant, unresponsive, and sometimes catatonic. Sam had been wondering if maybe Dean finally broke like he told Sam he might after his first hunt with dad.

J.J. watched as Dean's slouched position straightened and his shoulders squared. The agents had their guns lowered, but not put away, and J.J. took a step towards Dean.

"Your safe now, Dean," she told him. "Everything's gonna be okay."

"No it's not." Dean said, giving a bitter laugh. Then, from seemingly nowhere, Dean pulled out an ivory handled, silver, polished pistol. He pointed it at a spot just above J.J.'s head, a spot where he wouldn't hurt anyone. This fact did not escape J.J.'s notice. He didn't want to hurt them, he just wanted their attention and for them to listen.

"That's a Colt M1911 A1. It's .45 caliber, standard with 7-round magazine capacity." Prentiss informed everyone.

"I'm not going with him," Dean told them, "I can't."

"Why do you say that?" J.J. asked, keeping her voice low and nonthreatening, even though the gun was aimed at her. Dean wasn't an angry subject, he was just upset. He seemed calm though; his gun hand wasn't shaking and he didn't look at all nervous about having four guns pointed at him (Rossi was still with Sam and J.J. had lowered her gun to the ground in an attempt to get him to do the same).

"Cause he hasn't done anything," Dean said. "I never let Dad take him on hunts."

"You haven't done anything either." J.J. reminded him. "You've saved a lot of people, most of them thought that you were coming after them once you let them go, but instead you took the punishment for losing them."

"You're wrong." Dean shook his head. He had tears nearly spilling down his face at this point. "I killed them."

"Who?"

"Marla Johnson, Dave Nells, and Jacob Wiler." Dean rattled off three names. "I can tell you exactly what they looked like. I can tell you what they last ate. I can tell you how they screamed, how they begged me to let them go, whose names they screamed out." Dean was working himself up now, tears openly sliding down his face, but his gun hand never wavered; the gun never moved at all.

"You didn't want to kill them, did you Dean?" Dean's eyes connected with hers and she could see the despair and the hopelessness he was feeling.

"He made me," Dean whispered. "I couldn't help them."

"And if you hadn't done what he told you to do?"

"He would have killed me or he would have hurt Sammy." Dean shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "I couldn't let him hurt Sammy. I had to keep him safe."

There it was. Dean's soft spot was Sammy. He didn't see a way out for himself, but he had to get Sam out. That's what made him start leaving the trail. J.J. could also see that Dean had lost all reason to go on except for Sam.

"He still needs you," she said. Dean shook his head again. He lowered the gun for a split second before he placed the muzzle under his own chin, pointing up.

"No one needs me," Dean said. "That's what he always tells me. He always says I can never do anything right."

"He's wrong," J.J. said.

"No he's not," Dean retorted. "I always screw everything up."

"Dean, you helped us find you. You took good care of Sam. You saved so many people." She gave him a hesitant smile. He closed his eyes and she took the opportunity to get a couple of steps closer.

"Just put the gun down, Dean."

"I can't stop seeing them," he whispered. "They won't go away."

"I'm so sorry, Dean." She took another step closer.

"Make them go away." He opened his eyes again and looked like a lost little kid.

"I can't promise anything, Dean," she said, "But I can try. I just need you to put the gun down." She was three steps away. Now she was two.

"Give me the gun, Dean." He shook his head. One step away.

"I can't do it anymore. I'm not strong enough," he said softly. She was close enough at this point to make a grab for the gun. He was only fifteen, but he was just taller than her and he was already muscular. She reached out and grabbed the pistol, wrapping her hand around the cool metal cylinder with intricate carvings. She easily pulled it from his grip and tossed it onto the bed nearby. She caught Dean as he crumpled against her, sobbing.

"'m sorry. 'm sorry. 'm sorry," he whispered through his sobs. She held him and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered back. She held his shaking frame and wondered just how long this young man had struggled to keep himself safe from his own mind. "Everything's okay now."

None of the three people Dean had named had any family left. She had given the names to Garcia, and that was the information she had found. Dean had all but shut down after the scene in the motel room. Other than insisting that he should be handcuffed and locked up, he hadn't responded to anything anyone said or did. She had refused to let anyone put him in a cell, settling instead for an interrogation room. Sam was in a break room with Rossi and Prentiss and he was demanding to see his brother. When Prentiss had caught up with them, Sam asked where Dean was and she only told him that Dean was safe. This led to Sam not believing her and saying that they'd killed him when all he'd done was protect Sam. Sam had then started crying and had gone as silent as his older brother. He didn't seem to know that Dean had killed anyone, which jived with Dean's actions of protecting Sam before himself. He knew what their dad had done – or at least he had a general idea – and he knew that Dean had kept him as far away as possible. J.J. could feel her heart breaking for both boys as she walked to the interrogation room where Dean was currently residing. He didn't look up as she came in.

"Dean," she started, "no one is prosecuting you. As long as you testify or give a statement about what your dad did, you and Sam are free to go." He looked up at the last part, breaking out of his catatonic reprieve.

"Why?"

"Because what happened wasn't your fault, you aren't likely to do it again, and no one blames you for anything you had to do to stay alive," she said, counting things off on her fingers. "I talked with the judge, prosecutor, and defense attorney. They've all agreed that you've been through hell and nobody wants you to go to jail." She pulled out keys for the handcuffs and unlocked them.

"No one blames you," she said again.

"I do."

"Sammy doesn't know. We didn't tell him."

"Good, he doesn't need to know."

"Dean, do you know what's going to happen now?" she asked. She didn't doubt his intelligence, but this was an unfamiliar world he was being thrown into. He looked at her, his bright green eyes showing his confusion.

"You and Sam will be going into foster care," she told him, careful not to let her emotions seep into her voice. Foster care could be cruel, and these two had already been through so much that J.J.'s 'mom senses' were going into overdrive and telling her to never let these boys out of her sight.

"You won't be separated; the state isn't allowed to do that." She reached over and took one of his hands in her own. He looked surprised by the action, but didn't pull his rough, calloused hand away from her small smooth hand.

"Dean, foster care is far from a perfect solution. Some people will foster a lot of kids to get more money and then they'll neglect those kids. Some people will foster kids so that they get money and a punching bag as a bonus. Some people will do terrible things to the kids they're supposed to take care of," she warned him. "I'm counting on you; keep yourself and your brother safe."

Dean nodded.

"I'll keep him safe," he promised her.

"If you ever get to a home where things are really bad, call me and I'll see what I can do," she said, slipping a business card into his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, looking at the card then back at her.

"Because I want to help you, Dean," she said. "A social worker will be in in a minute." She stood. She walked around the table and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm always here if you need me," she said. She gave his shoulder a squeeze and she forced herself to walk away before she changed her mind.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

She was worried, but that was nothing new. He hadn't called or anything, she just always worried about them. Usually, she was able to push it aside, but today she had a feeling in her gut that he was in trouble. She frowned as she thought of all the things that could be happening to one or both of those boys.

"Hello," Garcia said, waving a hand in front of her face. "Earth to J.J.!"

"Oh, sorry, must have just zoned out for a minute," she said, forcing the frown off of her face. She was sitting with Garcia in the computer guru's office, surrounded by monitors and knick-knacks.

"Hey, you okay?" her friend asked.

"I'm just worried about the boys." J.J. nodded. Garcia, who had had multiple conversations about them with J.J., knew exactly who she was talking about.

"I know they're probably fine, but I just…"

"Got a bad feeling?" Garcia finished.

"Yeah." The two were silent until J.J.'s phone rang, breaking the calm air.

"Hello?" Silence answered her. Garcia looked at her questioningly and she shrugged in response.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Please…" They heard a voice, male, young, but not high pitched, injured sounding.

"Please… don't…" The slapping sound of a belt against flesh and a cry of pan that broke J.J.'s heart kicked both women into gear.

"Shut up, boy!" an angry, older, male voice shouted.

"Garcia, trace this call." J.J. stood, feeling her blood begin to rush. Garcia, jumping into action on the nearest monitor, not only traced the call, but recorded it as well.

"Muncie, Indiana. I have the address and I'm sending in the local LEOs," Garcia reported.

"Who lives there?" J.J. demanded.

"A Harold Kepborn."

"Any kids?"

"Two foster sons."

"Named?" Garcia was silent. "Garcia!"

"Samuel and Dean Colt." J.J. froze. The Winchester case had been all over the news, so they hadn't been able to use their real names. They had instead put them in under the last name Colt.

"I gave my number to Dean." J.J. started pacing.

"They've been living here almost the whole time they've been in the system."

"And this probably isn't the first time Harold has gotten violent," J.J. growled. The call had been ended almost immediately after Garcia tracked it, but now J.J.'s phone rang again.

"Hello?" she said, not allowing for her voice to carry any of the emotions that she was currently feeling.

"Are you J.J.?" a young boy's voice asked her. "Dean made me memorize your number. He said to call you if there was an emergency."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. We need help." J.J. though he sounded like he was near tears. "He's gonna kill Dean."

"What happened, Sam? Where are you?"

"He was really mad and Dean shoved me out the door and he locked it and wouldn't let me back in. then I heard yelling and I heard him hit Dean and Dean never fights back. I think he's gonna kill Dean. I'm at a payphone a couple of blocks away." J.J. relayed this to Garcia and thought to herself that the twelve year old was probably worried sick about his older brother. Garcia was nodding to herself and informing the cops who had arrived at Kepborn's house.

"Sam, the police are at your house, they should be coming to you any minute now. Don't worry, they'll take care of Dean," she told him. "Just stay on the phone with me until they get to you."

"Okay," Sam whimpered. Within the minute, she heard a siren.

"J.J.?" another male voice asked.

"Yes?"

"I'm Officer Stan Epson. Sam is safe with me. Dean is on his way to the hospital. It looks pretty bad just by glancing into the house." The officer was obviously reluctant to speak freely with Sam nearby. "If you're as close as I get the feeling you are, you might want to get out here."

"I'm on my way, officer, thank you."

"Not a problem," he said. "We've also arrested Mr. Kepborn."

"Glad to hear it," she said. She said goodbye and hung up.

"It looks bad," she told Garcia. "I have to go make sure they're okay."

"Go." Garcia nodded. "I'll tell the boss man what happened."

"You're a life-saver." Garcia laughed, although it sounded somewhat forced, and J.J. darted out the door.

* * *

A few hours later, J.J.'s plane touched down and she snagged a cab to the hospital Garcia had told her about. She had, somewhat illegally, found the hospital where Dean had been admitted. At that hospital, J.J. demanded to know what room Dean was in from the bored looking nurse at the station.

"His name is Dean Colt. He was brought in by the paramedics after a domestic disturbance call."

"Only family is allowed," the woman informed her nonchalantly.

"How about you just tell me what room he's in because I'm as close to family as he's got except for his brother." J.J. held out her badge as she growled at the nurse.

"Room 240." The nurse wasn't bored anymore, now she looked scared. For once, J.J. had no qualms about frightening someone. She rushed down the hall until she got to the right room. When she stepped inside, it was deathly silent. Dean lay nearly unrecognizable on the pristine white bed. His head had a bandage around it, both of his hands were wrapped in gauze, his left arm was in a sling, and he was only wearing scrubs on his bottoms because his chest was a mess of bloody gauze wrappings and bruises trying to hide underneath of the bandages. His ribs were wrapped tightly and the left side of his face was dark with bruises.

"Oh Dean," she sighed. She walked over to the side of the bed and gently ran her fingers along his discolored bicep. He was sedated, do he didn't wake up as J.J. sat down in the chair beside him. She was still sitting in that chair when Sam was led in by a police officer. She suspected they had finished getting his statement and double checking the facts over the couple of hours since she had left Quantico.

"Officer Epson?" she asked, standing up and holding out a hand.

"Yes, ma'am." The man nodded. "I just took Sam to get some food."

"I remember you," Sam said. "You're with the FBI. You're the lady that talked with Dean."

"Yes, and I told Dean that he could call me anytime he needed me."

"FBI?" Epson asked.

"Yes, I'm agent Jareau with the Behavioral Analysis Unit," she said.

"Then I guess I'm leaving Sam in good hands."

"He's safe with me," she said. "They both are."

"I hope your brother gets better," the officer said. He waved his goodbye to J.J. and was gone. J.J. took a good look at Sam and saw that he was about to fall apart.

"Come here, Sam," she said. She held her arms open and Sam came closer. She reached out and hugged him tight.

"Dean is strong, he'll fight his way back," she told him.

"Promise?" Sam's childlike voice was slightly muffled by her sweatshirt.

"I promise." She nodded. She pulled away and cupped his cheek.

"Sam, how would you feel about living with me?"

"For how long?" Sam asked.

"As long as you want."

"Do you mean you want to foster us?" Sam asked, his big hazel eyes meeting hers.

"I mean, I want to adopt you both," she said. Sam looked over at his brother, thinking about everything Dean had told him about the bad people in the world. Then he thought about everything Dean had told him about this woman.

"Dean said that you were the nicest person he'd met since mom died. He said that you were one of maybe five people since then that was actually nice to him and treated him with any respect. He said that just about everyone else he ever met treated him like a criminal or a pathetic little kid," Sam said. "He really liked you. He said that you reminded him of mom." J.J. watched Sam very carefully.

"I don't wanna make a decision without him, but I think he'll be okay with it." The twelve year old smiled at her. She smiled back and sat down in the chair again.

"You look tired," she observed. "Come here." She held her arms open again and Sam crawled onto her lap. He was kind of scrawny and small for his age, so he was about the right size. He laid his head on her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him.

"You know, I have a son back home," she said. "His name is Henry."

"How old is he?" Sam asked.

"Almost five."

"If you adopt us, can Dean and I teach him things?"

"Well…"

"I mean, Dean always teaches me stuff. He always has. Stuff like how to read and write, how to play card tricks, things like that. I wanna be able to teach someone else stuff for once."

"In that case…" she said, dragging it out. "Why not?" Sam sighed in content and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds. J.J. smiled and leaned her cheek against his forehead.

"Don't worry, Sam," J.J. murmured. "You aren't the only one with someone watching out for you. I'll take care of both of you." She sighed and closed her eyes. She quickly opened them again when she got the feeling that someone was watching her. She looked over to see a pair of dull green eyes watching her holding Sam. Dean reached out a shaky, bandaged hand. She reached out her own hand and took his in hers. She saw a tear sliding down his face.

"I tried," he rasped. His voice was so quiet, she almost didn't hear him.

"I know, honey," she said softly. "You did your best."

"Couldn't…let him…hurt…Sammy."

"I know. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," she told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Now go back to sleep." He blinked tired, drugged eyes at her, his long lashes damp with tears, before he allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

When Dean woke up, he didn't remember where he was. He looked around wildly and tried to sit up before the pain all over his body made him stay still. He looked over and his gaze settled on Sam, easily calming his nerves. Sam was sleeping peacefully, so Dean figured it was as safe as it got. He looked at the woman who was holding Sam on her lap. He remembered her being there when he was kind-of-awake-but-not-really, but figured she was part of his imagination; she looked a little like his mom and she had helped him so he figured he had just wanted her there. He thought he had dreamed her telling him that he did good. She yawned and stretched a bit as she started to wake up. When she noticed he was awake, she smiled at him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she grinned.

"Sammy okay?"

"Thanks to you." She nodded at him. They were silent for a minute.

"'m sorry."

"For what?"

"For not calling sooner." Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I could handle him on my own."

"This isn't your fault, Dean," J.J. said. She could see the self-loathing in his eyes and was reminded of when they first met. He obviously hadn't gotten better since then, and it was a wonder he was even still standing – figuratively – what with the life he'd had in the last six months.

"You were in a bad situation and did what you could to survive. Nobody can blame you for that."

"I can," Dean said, nearly echoing another conversation they had had. "I had a way out, but I didn't use it."

"Dean, you never have to go back," J.J. said.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to adopt you both. I have a friend who's helping my husband get the paperwork handled as we speak." It was true. Garcia had called just before she had gone to sleep to tell her that Will and her were taking care of the adoption papers.

"You want to adopt us?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You'll come live with me in Quantico, and you and Sam will be safe and loved." Dean looked at her skeptically.

"I've heard that promise before," he said, shaking his head.

"From and FBI agent?"

"…no."

"Have I ever lied to you Dean?"

"Well…no."

"Dean, I will do my best to never lie to you," J.J. told him.

"Never?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

"Never," she affirmed.

"I won't make any promises…"

"But you'll give me a shot?"

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking."

"What'd Sam say when you asked him?"

"He's excited," J.J. grinned, "mostly because he wants to start teaching my son things."

"What sort of things?"

"The things he learned from you." She shrugged.

"What?" Dean was shocked.

"Believe it or not, you're a great big brother," she told him. "You're his hero."

"No I'm not."

"Um, yeah, you are."

"Why would I be?" Dean asked.

"You told me, in that motel room, that you weren't strong enough," She said. "Do you think a weak man could have taken care of his little brother for nearly eleven years while being subjected to the things that you saw when you were growing up? Do you think a weak man could survive abuse from his father, take care of his little brother, and leave a trail to stop his father from killing other people? Do you think a weak man could have taken daily beatings and abuse for nearly six months just so that his little brother never had to feel that pain? It's a wonder Sam doesn't worship the ground you walk on." J.J. shook her head at him. "Dean, you are so much more than you think you are. You're not perfect or innocent anymore; you're 'damaged goods', but you're still here. I don't doubt that you had opportunities here in Indiana, and plenty back when you were with your father, to end all the pain you were going through. You kept fighting though, and I couldn't be more pleased with that. You've got some healing to do, but something tells me that as long as you've got Sam, and a family to support you, you'll be just fine in the end." Dean was silent.

"Honey, you're the strongest person I've ever met."

"Sam's gonna wake up soon," he said. "He's gonna be hungry."

"Will you not do anything stupid if I take him to get food?" she asked, being completely straight with him.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." He nodded to her.

"I'm gonna trust you here," she said, as Sam started to wake up.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dean said, smirking.

"Mmmm." J.J. laughed at Sam's sleepy expression.

"Come on, Sam," J.J. said, "let's go get some breakfast." She stood up, carefully dumping Sam off of her lap, and gently pulled him along with her towards the cafeteria. She looked back at Dean just before exiting the room. His eyes had closed and he had a content look on his face. His breathing deepened as the drugs kicked back in. J.J. smiled and silently promised to make sure he knew just how unbelievably amazing he was.

* * *

After a week in the hospital, Dean was going stir crazy. He had opened up to her a little, but she had listened in on more than one conversation between him and Sam. Dean was usually pretty soft spoken with her, and he never spoke at all to the nurses or doctors, but when it was just the two brothers, he would laugh and joke and make comments about the things Sam said and did. She had discovered from these conversations that Dean was _very_ sarcastic and had a witty comment for just about everything. The boy could certainly be charming when he wanted to be, and she had told Garcia as much. She enjoyed listening to the friendly banter.

* * *

After another week, Dean was told that he could be discharged. He was jittery all day, which J.J. attributed to his not knowing anything about where he was going. When they walked through the front door of her house, they were immediately greeted by Will and Henry. Dean seemed hesitant to go further with the sight of Will, but trusted J.J. to take care of them. J.J. was worried, however, because Dean hadn't said a word since they left the hospital.

That same evening, J.J. found that she couldn't sleep. Falling back on her usual remedy – because this happened a lot with her job being the way it was – she went downstairs and clicked on the TV to watch some mindless sitcom. She was still sprawled on the couch when she heard someone come up almost silently behind the couch. She turned to look at whoever it was, somehow knowing it was Dean. Her intuition didn't disappoint her.

"Can't sleep?" she asked. He shrugged.

"Come here." She sat up straight and patted the couch beside her. He said nothing, but he did sit down with her. They sat in silence for a while; J.J. didn't pressure him, instead she waited for him to speak.

"No."

"No, what?" she asked gently.

"No, I can't sleep," he murmured.

"Neither can I. I have these nights sometimes," she agreed. He didn't say anything else. After what she estimated to be an hour, she felt a slight weight on her shoulder. She looked over to see that he had fallen asleep and was slumped against her. She smiled a little before rousing him just enough.

"Dean, your back is gonna be killing you tomorrow if you sleep like this." She spoke softly and his eyes opened a little, but she could tell that he was still asleep. She moved him gently so that he was lying down with his head in her lap. She ran a hand through his hair and was rewarded with a content sigh from him. She smiled and leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

* * *

When she woke up around seven o clock, Dean was still sleeping. She took a moment to really look at him. He looked peaceful here. In the hospital, even when he was sleeping, he looked restless. Sam had mentioned something about Dean hating hospitals – which she could _completely _understand - and figured that dean was more comfortable now than he'd ever be in a hospital. She managed to slip from under his head without waking him up and went to the kitchen as quietly as she could. She started the coffee maker and supposed that that would be a much better way to wake him up. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Dean stumbled in, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes. She held out a cup to him and stifled her laugh at his appearance.

"Black?" she asked. He nodded and grunted his approval. He took the cup in both hands and drank the scalding liquid, letting out a little moan – something else she had to force herself not to laugh at. He leaned back against a counter.

"You always up this early?" he asked, opening one bright green eye to look at her.

"Nope," she smiled, sometimes I get even _earlier_." He groaned.

"I take it you aren't a morning person?"

"God, no." He grinned at her. "But Sammy should be up soon enough."

"So _he's _the morning person."

"Yeah, but I always told him to stay in bed until I woke up or until I came and got him."

"Why don't you go see if he's awake while I get started on breakfast?" she suggested, sensing his new unease at letting that statement come out. He obviously hadn't meant to tell her that and I made her wonder what dangers had awaited them each morning and for how long said dangers had been hanging over her boys. Dean nodded and set the mug down on the counter before disappearing up the stairs.

* * *

When he got upstairs, he walked down the hall until he got to the room Sam was in. He didn't knock – just in case Sam was still sleeping – and he opened the door soundlessly. Sam seemed to be just waking up…excellent. Surprised by his own good mood, but not willing to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Dean grinned at the idea that popped into his head. He silently crossed the room and pounced on the bed. Sam gave a small yelp as Dean landed on him, but he relaxed as he recognized his brother.

"What the heck, Dean!" Sam scolded his brother. Dean was laughing, though. Loud and clear and happy. Dean hadn't laughed in a long time, so he wasn't really upset with him. If Dean was happy, Sam was happy.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, curious as to why Dean was in such a good mood. He had his suspicions, but wanted to be sure. Dean was currently lying on his back laughing his ass off at Sam's reaction.

"Your face," Dean managed to say, "You should have seen your face." Dean managed to get a hold on himself and immediately jumped on Sam again, this time reaching for Sam's ticklish stomach. Sam squirmed and tried – unsuccessfully – to get away.

"Dean!" Sam begged.

"Not until you say it!" Dean grinned, tickling his baby brother mercilessly.

"Never!" Sam said defiantly.

"Have it your way." Dean said, faking sympathy.

"Okay! Okay!"

"Say it!" Dean growled playfully.

"You're the best brother ever and no brother could ever compare!" Dean stopped tickling Sam and collapsed on the bed beside him.

"Jerk," Sam huffed.

"Bitch." Dean grinned at Sam.

"Should you be doing stuff like that with your ribs still messed up?"

"What are you – twelve going on twenty?"

"Dean, I'm serious."

"Hi, serious, I'm Remus."

"Now is not the time for Harry Potter references."

"Probably a good thing since they're both dead."

"_Dean._"

"I'm fine, Sam." Sam sighed in response and counted it as a win when Dean didn't push him away. He cuddled as close as he could because he knew that Dean wouldn't be in a 'cuddling mood' for long. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and held his little brother tightly top his side.

"J.J.'s making breakfast downstairs."

"I figured; I can smell the coffee." Dean tilted his head so that his cheek rested on Sam's forehead. Sam breathed in his familiar scent and listened to the beating of Dean's heart. After a couple of minutes, Dean grew restless again. He jumped up and pulled Sam up with him.

"Come on, I'm starving!" He grinned.

"When aren't you starving?" Sam asked rhetorically. Dean just continued to grin in response. As Sam followed his little brother downstairs, he thought about their lives. They had a chance here, a chance for a good life. Family had many meanings, but the simplest was that family was people who only wanted to see you happy, and they would always be there for you. They would both be okay now.

As he went down the stairs, he looked out the window and was surprised to see two men watching the house. One was wearing nondescript clothes and holding what appeared to be a lollipop, and the other man was wearing a suit and a trench coat and his tie was backwards. Both were smiling slightly and, as soon as Sam saw them, they started to walk away. Sam didn't know why, but he wasn't scared when he saw them. He felt oddly comforted, but he shrugged and continued downstairs.

It looked like life was finally looking up for them, and that was just what Sam always dreamed of.

* * *

**_Fin _**

**For now.**

**I swear, I didn't originally intend for Gabriel and Castiel to be there at the end, it just seemed like a good idea. I think that if they could find a way to put them in another reality to spare them from the terrible things in their adult lives, they would. They won't be seen by either Winchester boy ever again, they just wanted to make sure the boys were finally happy.**

**Now, this is only the first part. I will be writing additional "chapters", but they'll definitely be a lot shorter than this. Any suggestions as to what those should be about are welcome and appreciated. **

**Hugs and kisses for anyone who reviews!**

**Follow me on Tumblr guys – daslebenistgut**

**Until next time, farewell my darlings.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I really liked this. I had an idea and the next chapter already has a base idea thanks to a reviewer! I'll get started on that as soon as I possibly can! This chapter picks up a few months after the first left off. Also I realized that I used Prentiss in the first part, and she's gone. I've replaced her with Blake.**

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

J.J. sat the plate of toast and eggs in front of the twelve-year-old. Sam was dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans and was both excited and nervous for the first day of school. His older brother, however, was a different story entirely. Dean had yet to emerge from his room this morning. J.J. knew that teenagers loved their sleep, but, if he didn't get up soon, he was going to be late. She decided to go check on him. She knocked on the door before she opened it – respecting his privacy, but asserting her authority as a parent by going in anyway. She was stunned to find the room empty. The only other closed door in the hall was Henry's door. Thinking about how quickly Henry had taken to the sixteen-year-old, she supposed that he probably went in there. She opened the door slowly and saw Dean sitting on the bed. He had his back against the headboard and Henry had climbed up onto Dean's lap and fallen asleep with his hands fisted in Dean's long-sleeved t-shirt. She absentmindedly wondered why he was wearing that when it was still plenty warm outside. He looked up at her.

"I couldn't sleep last night."

"Worried about school?" she asked. He shrugged in response – something that could mean anything really. He hadn't really been talking much for the past week. She figured that, since things were going to change, it was a defense mechanism. He didn't want things to change but he couldn't stop them, so he was going silent.

"Hungry?" she asked. At least she could usually get him to answer yes or no questions.

"Not really." J.J. faked clutching her heart.

"But you're _always_ hungry!" she said dramatically. He gave her a small smile. It was true though; it was a rare occurrence to find the teenager without some kind of snack in his hands. With a semi-healthy diet, Dean had gone from being a scrawny, sort of emaciated, looking kid to being a muscular, healthy young man. He worked out – training that had been worked into his head too long ago, and it didn't hurt anything so J.J. saw nothing wrong with it – and Will played baseball and football with both boys.

"Dean, are you okay?" she asked gently. Dean nodded and stroked Henry's blond hair. She smiled as she remembered how surprised she had been when she found Dean lying beside Henry whispering something to him as Henry clung to Dean's side during the first week here. He had told her that Henry came running into his room saying that there was something in his closet. He had then gone with the small boy and proved that there was nothing there. He had then explained to J.J. that, after a nightmare, the only fool-proof way to get a kid back to sleep was to lie beside them and reassure them. He told her that Sam had nightmares and the only way either of them could manage to calm down was to lie together. Dean had been the only one to really take care of Sam when they were growing up, so it made sense to J.J. that he'd known how to comfort Henry and, at the same time, find some comfort for himself. Henry had soon after started running to Dean every time he had a nightmare. He had also started asking Dean for bedtime stories. It seemed, to J.J. and Will anyway, that Dean was enjoying taking care of someone again. Henry went to Sam when he wanted a book read to him, but if he wanted a story that _wasn't_ a book, he went to Dean. On nights that Dean would tell a story, Sam would sit nearby and listen. When Sam read a story, Dean would lean against the doorframe and listen. On nights where the nightmares were really bad, Dean would sing Henry back to sleep. She had listened in one night and discovered that Dean was really good at singing. He went out of tune every once in a while, but he _was_ half-asleep and a capella.

"You'll have to get ready for school soon," she reminded him. She didn't miss the look of panic in his eyes that flashed for the briefest of moments, before his face went blank again.

"Do I have to?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so," she sighed. "Why don't you want to go?"

"It's just…nothing. It's nothing," he said, cutting himself off. He stood up, waking Henry gently and placing him back on the bed. Henry reached up for a hug first, which Dean obliged with a chuckle. Dean ruffled his hair before slipping out the door, not looking at her. She helped Henry dress before taking Henry into her arms and carrying him downstairs. Sam looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she shrugged in response. A few minutes later, Dean came down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a Led Zeppelin shirt. He grabbed his leather jacket as they left. After dropping Henry at day care, she headed to work. Will had gone into work earlier this morning.

* * *

Everything was going normally. Work was work and they were doing what they did best. Then she got a call. They were all together in the observation room discussing a case when her phone rang. She answered and the team watched her eyes go wide.

"He did _what_?" she demanded. There was a pause.

"Well, what caused it?" J.J. sounded like she was getting closer to being ticked off now that the surprise was gone.

"I told the school what he's been through; shouldn't that have been warning enough?"

"I'll head over now," she said tightly.

"What happened?" Reid asked?

"Apparently, Dean was asked to read something in class and he didn't read it correctly so the other kids started making fun of him. He stood up and left and no one can find him now." She sighed. "They called Sam out of class to help find him, but he told them that, if they couldn't find Dean, he most likely wasn't on the school grounds anymore."

"Where do you think he went?" Blake asked.

"Someplace he feels safe." J.J. turned and walked out, heading off to find her son. Hotch nodded to himself as she went. Those boys, especially Dean, were lucky to have her, because giving up was not something she did.

* * *

She had gone to the school, where Sam had assured her that he'd be fine; he just wanted her to find Dean. She had gone to the daycare center and he wasn't there. She had picked up Henry while she was there though because she had a feeling Dean would need the little boy to comfort him (even if he didn't want to admit that he wanted comfort). She had checked the nearby park, where he and Will played baseball. She had gone home, running out of places to check. She left Henry in the living room and went up to Dean's room as a last ditch effort to see if he was here. The lights were off, but she flicked the switch. She saw him curled up against the headboard with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms resting on his knees. His head was resting on his arms and she breathed out a soft sigh of relief.

Then she heard the soft sound of sobs racking his chest. She walked over to him and sat down beside him. She put an arm around him and he leaned into her warmth. She watched as the sobbing increased and he finally let it all out.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry," he sobbed.

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart." She rubbed his back.

"'m sorry. 'm sorry. 'm sorry." She held him tightly and wished that she had pushed just a little harder about what was wrong this morning. She murmured comforting sounds and tried to help him calm down. After a little while, his sobs turned into sniffles. He pulled back a bit, rubbing his eyes.

"Dean, honey, what happened?" she asked.

"Didn't the school tell you?" he deflected.

"I want to know what happened from your point of view."

"I'm stupid, that's what happened."

"You're not stupid."

"I haven't been to school in three years," he blurted.

"What?" J.J. was thoroughly shocked by this.

"Dad said I was too dumb for school. Harold never let me leave the house. Dad stopped letting me go to school three years before you found us," Dean revealed.

"Dean, you're not dumb," she told him.

"Yeah, I am. I'm pretty sure Sam's smarter than I am."

"Well, Sam's a budding genius and is probably ahead of a lot of kids your age."

"I'm still dumb," he insisted. "I skipped a lot the last two years I was there because Sam needed me and I was never all that great at school to begin with. I can barely read as it is. That's why Sam reads to Henry. I was always trying to take care of Sam and trying to help people get away and trying to survive and trying _not_ to make my dad want to kill me because if I died no one would take care of Sam and it all got to be too much so I gave up school because I wasn't good at it and I just couldn't do it and –" He was working himself up again, so J.J. put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Dean, it's okay," she told him. "We'll work something out."

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but we will. We also have to get you a driver's license.

"I don't have a car," he pointed out.

"But _I_ can pull some strings and talk to a few people and get a certain '67 Impala out of an FBI impound." His eyes snapped to hers

"You'd do that?" he asked. "You'd get my baby back?"

"Your baby?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, she's my baby." He offered a little grin. "You can really get her back?"

"I can certainly try." She didn't see why they wouldn't let her get it, but you never knew. "And you know what?"

"No, who's this What-guy and should Will be worried?" he smirked. She groaned but was glad he was joking again.

"I work with some pretty smart people, and I'm sure they can come up with some ideas on how to catch you up in school."

"You really think I can get caught up?"

"I do."

"And you think they'll come up with a way that'll work?"

"Have you met Reid?" Reid had actually been the first agent to be introduced to Dean. Dean was always on edge with strangers, so she'd decided to introduce him to the team one at a time. Reid, being the 'geek boy' as Dean so eloquently put it, was the least likely to make Dean feel threatened. Reid had actually formed a pretty solid bond with the teenager because both had a love of old movies and Reid always found time to talk with Sam about books and 'intellectual crap'. J.J. suspected that the latter was the big reason. Reid was good to Sam, so Dean was happy to have Reid around. She also suspected it was because both were kind of awkward with girls, but at least Dean had _promise_ – or he would if he would ever come out of his shell. Dean could be charming when he wanted to be, but Reid was just… Reid.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll have some ideas, but what if none of them work?" Dean asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." She reached over and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's gonna be okay, Dean." She stood up. "Want some coffee? I know I could use some." He looked at her gratefully. She went downstairs and sent Henry up, knowing that Dean would feel better with him there. Once the coffee was ready, she went back up to Dean's room. She found him sitting in nearly the same position, but now with Henry sitting on his lap and telling him what he did in his time at daycare. Dean was listening patiently, resting his eyes as Henry told him about a killer butterfly. At the smell of coffee, he opened his eyes and gladly took the mug of dark liquid.

"You got him?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Then I'll be at work if you need me," she told him. "I'll pick Sam up on my way home. Pizza good for dinner?"

"Large meat lovers and vegetarian with a small cheese," he reminded her, knowing that they got the same thing every time."

"Got it." She winked at him. She leaned down and kissed Henry's cheek, then she kissed Dean's temple.

"I'll be home around four," she called out as she closed the door.

* * *

"So he hasn't been to school in years?" Rossi asked.

"He's not stupid, he's just not book smart," J.J. insisted.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," J.J. admitted. "I could probably start having Sam work with him just to see where he's at."

"Why don't we see what the rest of the team thinks too," Rossi suggested.

"That's what I was planning on doing," she told him as they walked into the bullpen. "Hopefully Reid can come up with a few ideas."

"A few ideas for what?" Reid asked, coming up behind them. The rest of the team was waiting at their desks and looked up at the trio as they arrived.

"Dean, he hasn't been to school in three years and the two years before that don't really count because he was there about once a week. He's convinced he'll never catch up to kids his age. I can't send him back to school when he's so far behind. That's why he disappeared earlier," she explained. "He freaked out and had something of a panic attack."

"Why don't we tutor him?" Blake suggested. "We could each take a subject." The team murmured their agreement.

"That could work." J.J. brightened.

* * *

She relayed the plan to Dean when she got back home. He sat quietly through her explanation, his face blank and devoid of emotion. When she finished, she looked to him to see his reaction.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked. "This is all up to you, Dean. No one's going to make the decision for you."

"This might work," he said. He looked up at her with shining green eyes.

"We'll never know until we try." She shrugged. "Speaking of try, why don't we _try_ to get you a license?"

"Like, now?"

"No time like the present, right?" She grinned at him, tossing him the keys to her car.

* * *

It had been a month. A month of home-schooling Dean and catching him up, and he was doing better than she could have hoped. With Rossi as a history teacher, Reid as a science and math teacher, Blake as an English teacher, and Garcia as a technology teacher, things were going exceptionally well. Morgan, Hotch, and J.J. filling in where necessary, and so did Sam. J.J had been right; Dean wasn't stupid, he just hadn't had a lot of educational guidance. It had been a rough start, but dean had wanted to make her proud (and succeeded enormously) so he hadn't given up. Even when he got extremely frustrated with himself, he had just gone out to the garage and spent about ten or fifteen minutes with the heavy-bag J.J. had gotten for just such occasions. The first time it had happened, Blake was teaching him. She had waited patiently for him to come back and hadn't commented when he did so with raw, bleeding knuckles and a clear head.

* * *

Now, J.J. had, in fact, pulled some strings and had decided to give Dean a reward for all the work he had done and was sure to do in the future. She sent him a quick text telling him to come outside. She watched as the door open and he shielded his eyes from the sun. She smiled and rested a hand on the powerful, if dirty, black car. Dean's eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he took in the sight of the '67 Chevy.

"You got my baby back?" he asked, not entirely believing what he was seeing.

"I told you I'd pull some strings." She shrugged. She found herself suddenly being hugged very tightly. She laughed and hugged Dean back. She didn't fully understand why he was so attached to this car, but she was more than happy to do whatever it took (within reason) to make him smile. He let go and she saw the light in his eyes as he went over to the car.

"Didja miss me, Baby?" he crooned, running his hand over the roof of the car.

"Where'd they keep her?" he asked J.J., opening the door and grabbing the keys that were sitting on the front seat.

"An FBI impound," she said. "Why?"

"She's filthy," Dean remarked. She went to the garage and pulled out a bucket of car soap and rags.

"Then clean her," she said, "it's time for gym class anyway." He grinned at her and grabbed the nearby hose. J.J. went inside, leaving him and his baby to get reacquainted.

* * *

She went back out a half an hour later to find the car sparkling and shining in the sun. She didn't see Dean, but she heard the radio playing classic rock and knew he was somewhere nearby. She heard a metallic clang and a muffled curse. She walked around to the front of the car and found a pair of jean clad legs sticking out from under the hood.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he called.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Changing the oil, she needed it before dad got arrested and she's just been sitting in some impound lot since. It's just been sitting there for months and now it's being difficult. I also gotta change the gas, but that can wait a little bit."

"You know how to do all that?" she asked. He slid out from under the car and grinned at her. He stood up and slipped out of his sweaty t-shirt. She tried not to, but she immediately took in all of the scars painting his pale skin. The lines on his back, long horizontal tracks left by a whip, were the ones that really got to her. He had withstood being whipped over and over again, but he never once told her which caretaker had given them to him.

"I can take apart an engine and put it back together in working condition. I could change the oil when I was seven years old."

"Ever think about getting a job as a mechanic?"

"I'm certainly considering it." He nodded, tossing her another grin. "I met a guy in South Dakota, he offered me a job after he saw me fix Baby's radiator when we were up in Sioux Falls. I think he kinda knew what was going on because he didn't believe me when I told him that my black eye and busted ribs came from falling down some stairs." He shrugged and slipped back under the Chevy. J.J. knew that these revelations didn't happen often, so she didn't ask about it.

"You mind changing the oil in my car when you're done?" she asked instead.

"Sure," he laughed, "I'll be done with Baby in ten or so more minutes."

"Do you name all the cars you meet?" she joked.

"Nah, just Baby."

"Why do you call her that anyway?"

"Cause she's my baby," he told her. "Mom used to take me for rides in her when I was little and couldn't sleep and, even when we were moving from motel to motel, Baby was always there. She was home for me, and she still kinda is in a way."

"She's just got that feel?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice went all misty and quiet. "In the ashtray, there's a little toy soldier. When you turn on the heat, the vents rattle cause there's Legos in there. I'm not gonna take 'em out. I could, but I won't cause it's the imperfections that make her perfect."

"So, there are things wrong with her, but she's still perfect because you love her."

"Exactly."

"Are we talking about the car, or you?" she asked quietly, bending down to look at him. He was silent, ceasing all movement at the comment.

"I…I don't…" he stammered.

"Dean, we're all a little broken; we're all a little messed up. Sometimes it just takes the right person to love us, to call us perfect, even if we have some dents and scratches," she told him. "Kinda like you think of your baby." She stood and left him with that.

* * *

She heard the door close and put the finishing touches on the burgers she'd made. She heard him pause in the entry way to the room.

"You're right." She heard him say.

"Honey, I'm usually right." She turned and grinned at him. "Now, go wash up and get your brothers."

She watched him grin at her before he disappeared up the stairs. After a few minutes, she heard the telltale giggles of a five-year-old being tickled. She smiled and set the table, keeping in mind that Will would be home soon. She heard Dean laughing and Sam quickly joined in. She envisioned Sam coming up behind his big brother and tackling him, freeing Henry, and then the little boys would both jump onto Dean and hold him down. Henry would try to tickle Dean, who would laugh, not because he was ticklish, but because he littlest brother would try so hard to tickle him. The laughter calmed her worries and she reminded herself that Dean would catch up in school and would continue to keep his family safe. Sam would go on to do brilliant things, but he would always look to his older brother for guidance and support. They would both grow up to do great things, or at least small things with great love.

* * *

**_Fin_**

**Okay, the last bit is an adaption of a quote from Mother Teresa. I love that quote. "We can do no great things, only small things with great love." Next chapter is up for grabs. I have two ideas: 1. Dean helps on a case (as requested by everythingwillbeperfect) or 2. Dean gets drunk for the first time. Tell me which you want, because either will work for me. Also, tell me what you'd like in future chapters. I will have Bobby in a chapter, but it'll be a little later, like after Dean's grown up a little more.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is for** **everythingwillbeperfect who requested Dean helping out with a case and Dean with PTSD, and for everyone who requested that this one come next! **

**I'm so sorry this took so long, I've had job interviews and I won a writing contest and I'm writing other stories and I'm a mess right now. Also, I can finally have coffee again! I should never give that up for lent again. **

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Ever since getting the Impala back, Dean had been a lot more relaxed and easygoing. While still behind his age group educationally, he had been progressing even faster than before. He hadn't been getting as frustrated when he didn't get something. It was like the car was the last little piece that made where the boys had been living for over six months now into their home. All in all, life had certainly calmed down. J.J. still had to dart off for cases, but she knew she could count on Dean to keep the house from burning down. She would trust Will, but she had come home to find a huge mess covering the entire house and Dean sitting on the couch tossing her a smirk that told her "he said he could handle it on his own". After that little incident, she had delegated all responsibility to Dean. She had also talked to him about what he wanted to do with his life after high school (or at least after he finished with his education in general). He had admitted to her that he didn't know what he wanted to do. He did tell her that he was considering the FBI, but he was also considering opening up an auto-body shop. She had told him that she would support him no matter what he chose to do with his life. Since he had said he was interested, J.J. sometimes brought home cases and worked through them with him. She would teach him how to profile and how to think in a way that criminals, who may or may not be insane, would think. He had a knack for it; he had actually picked up profiling remarkably fast. When she asked about it, he had admitted that he used to pickpocket so that they didn't have to go hungry and had learned to read people because he didn't want to steal from someone who needed the money.

The case they were currently working through was a hard one. The team had been working it all day and had gotten nowhere. She had thought that he might be able to help, a fresh set of eyes and all that. He was sitting beside her on the couch looking over the file. He was silent for about ten minutes.

"The killer is a linguist, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, the different languages at the different scenes was the indicator."

"He's only using romance languages," Dean commented. "He's not using excessive violence. It's almost like he's being careful with them, but the act of killing them is his assertion of his dominant role." His green eyes flashed dangerously. "He's acting like the dominant partner in a relationship."

"So we're looking for a linguist with a failed relationship or a string of failed relationships," she said, surprised none of them had noticed it earlier.

"I guess." Dean stood, his hands clenched into fists.

"You okay?"

"Just catch this guy and I will be," he growled. His knuckles were turning white.

"Dean…"

"Who does that?" Dean exploded, starting to pace across the room. "I mean what kind of sick _bastard_ does that to a woman?" He had cut back significantly on his cussing, so J.J. let this one slide. "It's disgusting! No one should treat _anyone_ like that, but who treats a _woman_ like that?" he looked like he was ready to hit the wall. "I can even understand guys who pick up girls in bars and never see those girls again, because girls can do the exact same thing to guys, but killing girls _just_ to assert his _superiority_? What kind of person does that?"

"Dean," J.J. put a hand on his shoulder to stop his pacing, "that's why we're going to catch him." She had seen him act like this with a couple of other cases, which led to her discovery of his trigger cases, cases that got him on the edge. The first time was with a guy who was killing kids, and now she knew his second type of case. Everyone had trigger cases. In addition to most law enforcement hating cop killers and anything involving kids, certain cases got to certain individuals especially fast. Knowing that he needed some time to cool his head, she headed to the kitchen to send a quick text to the rest of the team about Dean's revelation. She went back into the living room to find Dean gone. She heard steady, powerful thumps and figured Dean was relieving some stress on the heavy-bag.

She decided to leave him to it.

* * *

Right jab. Left uppercut. Right hook. Left jab. Right uppercut. Left hook. Repeat. Dean let his mind numb as his fists caught fire. He paid no attention to his splitting, bleeding knuckles, instead opting to let the pain consume him. He let every ounce of consciousness drift away into a box in his mind, a box that he locked tight. He let himself exist as nothing but pain and fury. He faintly registered tears sliding down his face, but he pushed that information into the box as well. He continued to beat his frustrations out on the bag and a little voice in the back of his head told him that someone was with him and talking to him. He chose to ignore that voice because the person sounded far away. The box only unlocked when he felt that person wrap their hands around his bloody knuckles.

"Dean, look at me," the voice said. "Look at me, honey."

He blinked a couple of times to come back to his senses and saw J.J.'s concerned expression. Her blue eyes peered into his green eyes, just like she was searching for something.

"Dean…" she was still holding onto his hands. Blood was dripping, staining her pale skin scarlet. It was making little _plop_ noises as it puddled on the concrete floor beneath him. He felt his knees give way and his chest constricted. He couldn't breathe. His chest hurt and he could feel his heart racing. He closed his eyes when the world started shaking. He could feel his body starting to shake even though he was burning up. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. He kept seeing the blood on his and J.J.'s hands and suddenly the images turned into his hands covered in Marla Johnson's blood. It turned into Dave Nells' blood. It turned into Jacob Wiler's blood. He couldn't get it off. It wouldn't go away. His hands were covered in blood and he couldn't clean it off. He started to struggle, he couldn't let J.J. see it, she couldn't know that he couldn't clean their blood off; he couldn't get it on her.

* * *

J.J. ran over to Dean as the blood started flowing more than just a little. The blood was falling freely from his fists. It was splattering the floor and Dean, mostly, with little droplets landing on Dean's pale skin. She grabbed his hands.

"Dean, look at me," she said. "Honey, it's okay." He didn't seem to hear her.

"Dean, look at me," she repeated. "Look at me, Honey." He finally did, and his eyes had a wild look to them. He still didn't seem to really see her.

"Dean…" she saw his eyes lose focus. His knees buckled and she went down with him to continue supporting him. She felt his heart speed up and saw him trembling.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay," she pulled him close and tried to calm him. He started struggling and gasping.

"It's okay," she reassured him, not letting him go. He stopped struggling and his breathing evened out. His tensed body relaxed as unconsciousness claimed him. She let go of him for a minute to run into the kitchen for her first aid kit and her cell phone. She ran back to Dean and quickly cleaned and bandaged his knuckles. She pulled out her phone and dialed Morgan's number.

"Hello?"

"Morgan, can you come over? I need some help,"

"Um, sure, I'll be there in twenty."

"Thanks."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We'll be in the garage when you get here," she said, hanging up. She waited, holding Dean close, for Morgan to arrive. She heard Morgan let himself in after about twenty minutes, using the key she'd given him. Within a minute, he came to the garage.

"J.J., what happened?" he asked, seeing the blood.

"I think he had an anxiety attack," she said. "He was going at the bag and didn't realize that he was bleeding. I tried to bring him back down when I realized that he wasn't seeing or hearing me and he just freaked out."

"Sounds like a panic attack to me."

"I need some help getting him off this floor." Morgan nodded and helped her carry Dean to the living room, laying him down on the couch.

"When did he start freaking out?" Morgan asked.

"When he saw the blood on his hands."

"He was probably remembering other times he's seen his blood on his hands," Morgan said, "or someone else's." J.J. nodded, also thinking of the three people Dean's father had forced him to kill.

"You're thinking PTSD," J.J. said.

"Yeah, it's a wonder he's held himself together this long."

* * *

When Dean woke up, he didn't know where he was. He jumped up and looked for a door. He felt a hand on his shoulder, which he easily slipped out from under. He whirled around, ready to fight, even though shapes and colors were dancing around his vision. He shook his head slightly to clear it, but it only made his headache worse.

"Dean," a woman's voice, coming from behind him, startled him. He spun around to face her, ready to fight off both opponents. He flinched when two strong arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Dean, calm down, man. You're safe here," the man's voice said. "You're safe, it's okay."

"No!" Dean continued to struggle against the man.

"Dean, honey, you need to calm down," the woman's voice soothed.

"No! Let me go! You can't hurt him! I won't let you hurt Sammy!" the man loosened his grip a little and Dean tried to slip away. If he didn't, Harold would be able to get to Sammy. Dean couldn't let him touch Sam, especially not the way he would touch Dean once Sam was asleep. He couldn't let that happen. Before Dean could get away, the man's arms slid up and around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold. Dean continued to struggle, even as unconsciousness once again pulled him under.

* * *

When Dean woke up again, something warm was pressed against his side. As soon as his breathing picked up, the warm _something_ jumped up and wrapped its arms around him. Dean struggled in a blind panic for a moment before he recognized Sam. He also realized that Sam was talking.

"It's okay, Dean, it's okay," Sam was saying. Dean stopped struggling, but continued to feel like he couldn't breathe.

"Are you with me?" Sam asked, pulling back to look at his big brother. Dean looked like he had that one time Dad had brought him home and Dean had refused to speak about what had happened. Dean had always said _something_ even if it was boring so, naturally, Sam was curious. Dean had then gone silent for three weeks.

* * *

_Dean wordlessly made dinner. A week into his silence and Sam was about to pull his own hair out to make Dean say something. Dad either hadn't noticed that Dean wasn't talking, or hadn't cared enough to find out why. Sam continued to talk to Dean in the hopes that he would say something back and everything would be okay. _

_After dinner, Dean just went to his room. Sam followed him and sat down on his thirteen year old brother's bed. Dean had curled up and was pretending to be asleep. _

_"De?" Sam used his old nickname for Dean to see if that would get Dean talking again. Dean didn't respond._

_"Are you mad at me?" Sam asked, tears coming to his eyes as he thought of what he might have done to make his brother mad. Dean jumped up and pulled Sam into his arms. Sam relaxed against Dean's chest, listening to his heartbeat, and guessed Dean wasn't mad. Dean pulled back a little and cupped Sam's cheek with his hand. He shook his head at Sam, his green eyes glistening with tears._

_"Are you sad?" Sam asked. Dean nodded, looking away._

_"Okay," Sam said. "I'll just keep trying to cheer you up until you feel like talking again, okay?" Dean had given him a little smile and then lay back down. Sam had curled up against his brother's chest and quickly fallen asleep while Dean rubbed his back._

_He never did find out why Dean had gotten sad in the first place, but he kept muttering the name_ _Marla Johnson in his sleep._

* * *

Sam shook himself out of the memory and back to the present. He looked to see that his brother was still freaking out.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, J.J. said that you had a couple anxiety attacks today."

"I did?"

"Yeah."

"My head hurts," Dean said, closing his eyes. His speech was already slurring and Sam could tell that he was exhausted, probably from not eating due to freak outs.

"Don't worry, big brother," Sam said. "We all fall down sometimes. It's okay."

"Hmmm." Dean sighed. Sam lay on the couch beside him and listened as his breathing eased up and slowed down.

"Night, Sammy."

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon, genius."

"Shuddup," Dean grunted, turning so that he was nuzzling into Sam's shoulder. He would allow the chick-flick moment for the time being because he was so tired. He drew comfort from his brother's familiar scent and let his consciousness drift away.

Yeah, even the strongest men have to rest sometimes.

* * *

**_Fin_**

**I left it kind of open ended because dealing with all the issues Dean's got could fill up my entire notebook. Let's just assume that Dean gets better with time. For anyone who might not remember, the names dean thought and was muttering in the flashback are the three people John made him kill. Also, how would you guys feel about Dean meeting the NCIS team? Like they're working a case and he's working a case (once he's grown up) and the cases overlap. Next chapter should be a little quicker coming.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I came up with this idea and it wouldn't let me rest until I'd written it. I'm really loving this story line though and I'm glad you are too. Reviews really make my day and I'm always happy to know that you guys like what I'm giving you!**

**Dean gets drunk (Although it's a little more complicated) and J.J. takes care of her eldest. **

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

When she came home and found a light on, she wasn't exactly surprised. Whenever she told Dean that she was coming home, he always waited up for her. She had been away for a week and was glad he was up because she always felt like shit warmed over the day/night she returned. He would give her an understanding look and make her some soup and rub her shoulders.

The first time he'd done this, he had greatly surprised her. The second time, she assumed he was joking around. The third time, he had explained to her that it was his way of thanking her for coming home and welcoming her back.

This case had been exhausting and she couldn't wait to get something into her stomach that was real food and not a microwave ramen noodle cup. She opened the door and slipped off her shoes and jacket. From the smell that was lingering in the air, Dean had made his tomato rice soup for dinner. She walked past the kitchen and into the living room and was thoroughly shocked at what she found. Dean was lounging on the couch, which wasn't unusual, but he was drinking a beer.

"Dean." J.J. broke the silence. Dean started, alarm flaring in his eyes.

"I, uh, you're home early," he said in a strangled voice.

"What the hell, Dean?" She wasn't angry so much as disappointed.

"J.J., it's really not that big of a deal," Dean said.

"Not a big deal? Dean, you're seventeen!"

"And I started drinking when I was ten," he said, sighing.

"What?"

"Dad said I needed to be a man," he shrugged, "it's really not that big of a deal." J.J. got an idea, so she stood and went to the kitchen. She went to a certain cupboard and grabbed a couple of bottles. Then she went to another cupboard and grabbed a glass. She stalked out to the living room and put both bottles and the glass in from of Dean on the coffee table.

"You think you want to be a man? Well then you're gonna learn how to drink like one." She poured a healthy amount of Jack Daniels into the glass before she handed it to Dean. He narrowed his eyes, but called her bluff, drinking down the Jack in one gulp.

* * *

A couple of hours later, around one or two in the morning, Dean was a little more loose-lipped; the bottle of jack was empty; the bottle of Southern Comfort was nearly empty, and J.J. was seriously doubting he'd learned anything from this. As soon as the Southern Comfort was gone and Dean was still smirking at her, she threw her hands up in the air in surrender.

"Okay, bed, now." She shook her head. "But we will talk about this in the morning." He nodded and stood up. He still had his little crooked smile on, having triumphed over her. He went up the stairs, albeit clumsily. He was more drunk than he'd let on. She smiled to herself and thought that this night might not be a waste after all. She, too, went to bed shortly after.

* * *

She woke up and the clock said 4:37 in bright red numbers and she couldn't figure out why she'd woken up. Then she heard the moan down the hall. Smiling to herself, she got out of bed and walked down the hall to find her seventeen year old hunched over the toilet, whimpering. She sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed his back soothingly as he dry heaved. After a few more minutes, he moved away from the toilet. She guided him to turn and lean back against her legs, so that his head was resting on her knees.

"J.J.?" he moaned.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she responded softly.

"I'm never gonna drink again."

"Yes, you will," she told him. "Just not for a long while." His eyes were closed and his forehead was damp.

"I thought you were used to drinking," she teased.

"Not that much."

"You've got a good poker face," she told him. He just grunted.

"You good or do you still feel nauseous?" she asked.

"Should be good. It's been a while since I drank that much, but it was pretty much the same as right now, 'cept Dad kept yelling at me to man up," he grunted. She helped him up and they walked back to his room. She helped him into bed, where he collapsed, shivering. She covered him with a blanket and moved to leave when a hand shot out and wrapped itself around her wrist. She looked back to see wide, delirious, dull green eyes pleading with her.

"Don't go," he said. "Please, everyone always leaves me." She knew that he wasn't in his right mind and probably wouldn't remember any of tonight when his hangover hit, but she was surprised to see this side of him. Just moments earlier, he had seemed like he was completely coherent. She decided to stay with him while he still needed her to. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was growing up and that they only had a few more years before he went off to college and was starting his own life. She wasn't his birth mother, but she loved him like she loved Henry. He was hers even if it wasn't by blood.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," she said gently.

"Mama?" His voice sounded so young.

"Yes?" She sat down on the bed next to him.

"Why did you leave me?" he asked. "Was it 'cause I did somethin' wrong?"

"No, honey, you didn't do anything wrong." She was shocked that he thought that, even while he was delirious.

"Is it 'cause you didn't love me anymore?"

"No, honey, it was just time for me to go. I love you so much, I always have and I always will."

"Okay, Mama." He shifted closer to her and, within a few minutes, he fell asleep. She continued to stroke his hair as he slept. She couldn't help but wish that life had been different for him. He was such a good kid and had such a big heart; she wished he had been able to grow up in a loving environment, but knew that she would just have to do as much as she could at this point.

* * *

In the morning, the door opened to reveal a very worried Sam. He looked at Dean, who was still curled up against J.J.'s side, and J.J., who was leaning against the headboard. He stepped closer to her and woke her up quietly so that he didn't wake Dean up by talking loudly.

"Psst, J.J., is Dean okay?" he asked. "I heard him getting sick last night."

"Your big brother is fine, don't worry," J.J. soothed. Sam regarded her suspiciously, but nodded and went to get ready for school. J.J. looked over at Dean and sighed. Will stuck his head into the room.

"You need anything?" he asked.

"Aspirin and ginger ale," she told him, smiling. He nodded in understanding before he slipped away again. J.J. turned back to Dean.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid," she whispered. She kissed his temple and he sighed, moving closer. Will dropped off the medicine and the soda before leaving for work and to drop Sam off at school. He told her that this was the same way he had learned his lesson about drinking before the law (or his parents) allowed it.

J.J. counted it as a win.

* * *

**_FIN_**

**I'm in awe at the response I've gotten and to be honest it's a big boost in my day. I love you guys, thank you so much. I'm always looking for new ideas, so keep 'em coming! I have the next chapter written, it's just a matter of actually typing it up. Next up – the boys find themselves in trouble and don't know what to do. Will Dean be able to keep Sam safe? And will the ever get home?**

**Also, I've posted three new one-shots and y'all should check 'em out.**


	5. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH

**Sorry to get your hopes up guys, but this isn't a new chapter. That'll come on perhaps next Wednesday so that I can make some headway on chapter 6 and give everyone a chance to look at this and it will be replacing this. At the end (whenever that may be) I will be posting a final "chapter" like this where I personally thank you all for reviewing/following/favoriting. But this is important and I need you guys to know this. This school year has been both easy and hard for me. It's been easy class wise because I'm slacking off my senior year and my classes are easy. It's been hard because at the same time that I'm winning awards for my writing, I'm doubting myself. Recently, things have started to look up, but this whole year I've been pretty much surviving on reviews for my stories. I can't describe how happy I get when I see that someone reviewed and likes any of my stories. You guys are the reason why I keep going. Thank you all. A lot has changed in my life since last year and in about a month, I'm graduating. My whole life is going to change even more and it's kind of nice to know that there are people out there who want to see my work. It's really encouraging and I owe you guys so much. I'm going to take a minute and thank each and every one of you personally, and if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer them. To the guest who is starred – you suggested that I have Dean let them into the world of the supernatural; unfortunately, I made the supernatural not exist. John just went insane and thought it did. I'm going to try to keep a bunch of Supernatural's characters in the story, but monsters don't exist in this.**

**Thank you to my reviewers:**

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**Thank you to my followers:**

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**Thank you to my favoriters:**

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Robin-song95


	6. Chapter 6

**Alright, it was suggested that I write a chapter about Dean and Sam being in trouble and needing the team to find them. So here it is. Also, I know I said that I would replace the thank you chapter with this, but I think I'll leave that up until I do the final thank you for this story.**

**Fresh from the desk of a twelfth grade nothing.**

* * *

Not knowing was the worst part. Everyone knew that. Not being able to talk to them was bad. Not being able to see them was worse. Not knowing if they were even still alive was the worst, though. Not knowing if they were coming home, not knowing if she could have stopped it from happening in the first place, was eating her alive. She wanted to scream, but mostly, she just wanted her boys home safe.

"Don't touch him!" Dean yelled. His powerful voice echoed in the empty warehouse. The man stopped as he was leaning over Sam and turned to Dean. Sam, quaking and withdrawn in his chains, turned his alarmed gaze onto Dean as well. The two boys were each chained to a pole. There was another boy across the room, but he was either gone or he would be soon. The man pulled his knife away from Sam and walked over to Dean.

"Have it your way," he growled. He plunged the knife into Dean's shoulder. Dean grunted, but refused to scream. He knew that he was making himself a target because this sadist wanted him to scream, but it would keep his attention away from Sam. Dean could handle pain and he knew that his father had put him through worse. Dean glared at the man with defiant green eyes.

"No scream?" the man asked. "We'll change that." He ripped the knife out and shoved it through his other shoulder. Sam screamed that time.

"No! Dean!"

* * *

J.J. looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone. She pierced each and every person with her gaze, begging them to give her something, anything. Reid's head was bowed; Garcia had slumped on the table; Blake was rubbing her eyes; Rossi was holding his head in his hands; Morgan mirrored Rossi; Hotch's shoulders dropped.

"We've got nothing?" she asked.

"We've got nothing," he confirmed.

"So what are we going to do?" J.J. asked. "I'm not writing them off as dead."

"We aren't giving up, we just don't have anything," Morgan sighed.

And then J.J.'s phone rang.

"It's unknown." J.J. froze.

"Garcia –" Hotch started.

"On it, sir." Garcia immediately started ticking away at her keyboard. J.J. answered the phone after Garcia gave her a thumbs-up; she put it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"J.J.," a rough voice spoke, causing a million different emotions to course through J.J.'s heart.

"Dean," J.J. nearly sobbed.

"We're okay, all three of us."

"Is he listening?" she asked. "Is he there with you?"

"Yeah, Sam's fine," Dean told her.

"Are you someplace with other people around?"

"No, I'm fine too."

"Dean, we're going to find you. It's going to be okay."

"We traveled for an hour, it's a warehouse, there's nothing around us and it's really cold here." Dean spoke rapidly, his words dripping with urgency. They heard a loud slap and the phone was hung up.

"Did you get it, Garcia?" Rossi asked.

"Burner phone, no registration, I have it narrowed down to a fifteen mile radius."

"He said it was a warehouse in the middle of nowhere," J.J. reminded her.

"And there's one warehouse in the area and it used to be a cold storage unit type place. Owner's name is Stephen Williams."

"Let's go," Morgan said, standing up.

* * *

Dean had memorized the corridors he had been walked through. He had known that he would get into trouble for what he said over the phone. His kidnapper wasn't planning on disappointing him. They got to another room, where Dean was again tied to a pole. He watched as the man pulled out a wicked looking knife.

"You're a pretty boy, Dean, but you won't be so pretty after I'm done with you," the man said. Dean watched him closely as he leaned down and smiled. Dean had a steady mantra of _J.J. is coming_ going through his head. He was repeating it over and over just to keep himself together at this point. Dean clenched his jaw as the man slowly dragged the blade along his pale skin. He refused to scream as the blade was slicing the skin on his chest, as the man carved him up. He refused to scream as his blood covered his torso and pooled around him. He refused to scream even as the knife was impaled in his leg.

* * *

J.J. was first in after the heavy, metal door was removed. She found Sam and another boy tied up in one of the rooms. The other boy was immediately taken into one of the ambulances, while Sam only had minor scrapes and bruises. J.J. knew that Dean must have taken on Sam's fights, holding tight to his belief that no one would hurt Sam while he was around. She helped free Sam while the team and the police searched the rest of the facility.

"Sam, where's Dean?" she asked, looking the twelve year old in the eye.

"I don't know, the guy took him away," Sam told her. He started crying; imagining the things the man had done to his big brother. She hugged him close, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances.

"We'll find him. It's okay." It wasn't, but she could pretend for Sam's sake.

"J.J., we found him." She heard Blake's voice over their communication system. She heard Hotch calling for an ambulance, but didn't tell Sam that.

"He…he stabbed Dean," Sam whispered.

"Don't worry, he'll be okay," she reassured him. "Sam, who was the other boy?"

"That's Nate. He was grabbed him from his school before us."

"Do you know how long he's been here?"

"Just a day more than us."

"Okay, now how about we go outside." Sam nodded against her shoulder. She stood up and held him close as they walked out. She let a paramedic look over him as she caught sight of a gurney being wheeled out of the building. She ran over to him. He was covered in blood and looked even more pale than usual.

"Dean!" she sobbed. "Is he going to be okay?"

"We won't know until we get him to a hospital. He's lost a lot of blood," the paramedic responded. They loaded him up into the second ambulance as Sam was cleared. J.J. grabbed his hand and held on tight as the team came over to her.

"We got him," Morgan said, nodding at a cruiser that some cops were shoving a man into.

"We'll meet you at the hospital," Rossi said. She smiled a little before she and Sam went quickly to J.J.'s car.

* * *

When they got to the hospital, she grabbed Sam's hand again and hurried to get directions for Dean's room. She was told that he was in surgery and that she would be informed when he was out. She took Sam back to the waiting room and collapsed into a seat. Sam curled up beside her and she put her arm around his shoulders and just gave herself a second to breath. Eventually, Sam dozed off. She kissed his head and held him close to her, needing comfort from his presence as much as he needed it from her. After two hours, the team arrived and sat with them. J.J. had called Will to let him know what was going on and both had agreed that it was best to keep Henry safe at home until Dean was a little better. They knew he wouldn't want his littlest brother to see him lying there looking half dead.

After five hours, a nurse called out.

"Family of Dean Winchester?" J.J. stood and Sam practically tried to run to his brother's room.

"Here," J.J. said. "Is my son okay?" she asked as they walked back.

"He had some pretty serious stab wounds, and they were left untreated for long enough to have infection set in, although it's minor and being treated with antibiotics. There was also significant blood loss."

"But he's gonna be okay, right?" Sam asked, giving her those damn puppy dog eyes of his, causing J.J. to force herself not to smile.

"He is," the nurse assured him. "Luckily, no organs were hit." Sam was silent as the nurse stopped them at room 394. Sam went in first and collapsed into the chair beside his brother's bed. J.J. thought to herself that if she never saw her eldest in a hospital again, it would be too soon. Dean lay there, pale and still. The freckles on his nose and cheeks stood out and the lack of animation and energy that she associated with him made him look so much younger than his sixteen years. She walked over and ran her fingers through his soft, dark blond hair. She was surprised when dazed green eyes opened and met her blue eyes.

"Dean?"

"M' head hurts," he rasped. She stroked his cheek.

"Go back to sleep sweetheart, it won't hurt when you're asleep."

"M'kay," he said. His eyes closed and he drifted away, clutching Sam's hand like a lifeline. She supposed it was, in a way, his lifeline. Sam was the reason why he helped their dad get caught. Sam was the reason he trusted J.J. and let her take them in. Sam was the reason why he gave her a chance. Sam was his whole world, or, at least, the biggest thing in his world.

"Don't worry, Dean. You're safe here," Sam whispered softy, climbing onto the bed and curling up beside his brother. Dean sighed and nuzzled his face into Sam's shoulder.

**Okay, so I didn't know if I wanted to end it here, but I couldn't decide how to continue it otherwise. I don't think Dean will have any lasting damage from this because it's minor compared to everything else he went through and Sam won't because he knows that Dean will always be there to keep him safe. **

**So what's next dudes? I have another chapter written , but I don't know what to write after that. Y'all need to send me some prompts. Also, I have two jobs now. I'm graduating from high school. I'm turning 18 on the 23****rd**** of May. I might be a little slower updating and posting my new stories in June and beyond, but I have no intention of stopping what I'm doing. In the meantime, check out my other stories until I return! But seriously guys, send me prompts. **

**Oh, and Nate and Stephen? Those are two of the guys that I peer tutor and they asked if I could include them in the story. I did tell them what their characters would be doing, and they were like YEAH and i was like you guys are weird, which is pretty much what I say everyday in that class. **


	7. Chapter 7

**So, I was asked to have Garcia and Morgan giving Dean advice on girls. I didn't really know how to do that, but I hope you all like this attempt/twist on that prompt. Also in this chapter, one of our favorite hunters-but-he's-not-a-hunter-here-we-just-still-love-him.**

* * *

Dean turned red whenever girlfriends were mentioned. He insisted that he didn't have one and J.J. believed him. But she could also tell that a girl was involved somewhere. After sending Dean to school for a trial run, he had quickly adjusted and managed to make some friends, and he fit in rather quickly. He had joined the football team and impressed the coach with his marksmanship and ability to play any position at any time. The coach was ecstatic at having found a player who could take down any defender with only minimal effort. The coach told him that his main positions would be quarterback, because of his arm and ability to take heavy hits, and fullback because of his ability to keep players away from the quarterback. When his first report card came home, Dean hadn't looked at it. He had put it into a folder and hadn't removed it until he got home. He had slid it across the table to J.J. and then collapsed into a chair and laid his head on his arms. She smiled and thought that it couldn't be that bad before she picked it up. she briefly wondered why he was always so sure that he was going to be a disappointment. She looked at the paper, her eyes roaming over the six grades, before she stood up. She placed the paper in front of him and patted him on the back.

"I'm proud of you, honey," she told him. His head came up and he looked at her, green eyes wide. He looked at the paper and saw why she was smiling at him. English 12 – 96%, College Algebra – 99%, Physics – 91%, Advanced Placement United States History – 97%, Rhythm Lab – 100%, Technical Drawing – 98%.

"Good job, Dean, I told you that you'd be fine." She turned and started to walk out of the room.

"J.J. –" She turned to look at him as his voice drifted over to her. Suddenly, he was up and walking over to her. She opened her mouth but, before she could say anything, his arms were around her and he was holding on tight. She hugged him back just as tight.

"Thank you," he whispered. She pulled back and cupped his cheek with her hand, pretending not to see the tears that had welled up in his eyes.

"Will and I are going out to dinner tonight, so Morgan and Garcia are coming to help out with Henry and Sam." Both younger boys had managed to catch the flu and J.J. was thanking anyone who was listening that for Dean having missed out on it. Dean was being run ragged with taking care of them so she had called in reinforcements for the evening.

"Okay," Dean said, letting out the breath he seemed to have been holding.

* * *

"I knew he could do it," Garcia cheered.

"I think he just needed to see that for himself," J.J. told her.

"I think we're all like that sometimes."

"Also, I need you and Derrek to grill him about any girls he may or may not be interested in."

"Why? Does our favorite seventeen year old have a little girlfriend?" Garcia teased.

"I don't think so. It could be that he's got his eye on a girl, though."

"I will seriously explore this while you're off having fun with the hubby tonight."

"Try and give him some pointers, but _nothing _that will get him arrested, expelled, or shot by an overprotective father."

"Honey," Garcia winked, "you can count on me."

* * *

"So who is she?" Garcia asked as soon as the door had closed. Morgan covered his chuckle with a cough.

"Who is who?" Dean asked.

"The girl."

"What girl?"

"The one you like!" Garcia groaned. Sometimes she acted more like a teenager than she probably should.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do." Morgan grinned at him.

"Nope,' Dean said, shaking his head. "I don't really like any of the girls in my school like that."

"There's no girl?" Garcia deflated.

"Nope, there's no girl."

"Huh." Garcia slumped back across the couch and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry, I know you wanted there to be a girl." He bumped her knee with his own. She sighed.

"At least tell me that you're flirting with the girls at school."

"I go back and forth with them, but it doesn't mean anything cause I'm not interested in them."

"Why?"

"They just aren't my type." He shrugged.

"How do you know what your type is?"

"I want a girl who can handle her own. I don't want a girl who's needy and unable to take care of herself if the need arises," he said. "Almost all of the girls at school are the needy type, so I'm just not interested in them."

"So who are you interested in?" Morgan asked.

"No one."

"Liar," Morgan said with a smirk. "You might as well tell us."

"Fine, she's a girl I met online. I accidentally sent her an email instead of my football coach. They have really similar emails. I realized it was wrong after it was already sent so I sent another apologizing about the mix up and she said it was okay and introduced herself," Dean told them.

"You've never met her?" Garcia asked.

"No, but we've talked on the phone and in emails," Dean said. "She lives in Nebraska."

"What's her name? I'll check her out!" Garcia said, excited again.

"No!" Dean's eyes widened and he threw his head back. "You're not allowed. I'm telling you about her so you can't check up on her, please." Dean looked at them, pleading with his eyes.

"Fine, I won't do a background check," she relented. Dean's shoulders slumped with relief.

"Now remember, always be a gentleman, don't be pushy, don't try to control her, talk about what she likes to talk about, listen to what she's saying and what she isn't saying, and if you need any more tips, you know where to find me," Garcia said.

"Umm, I think I've got this." Dean smirked.

"And why do you think that?" Morgan asked.

"I called my buddy up in South Dakota for some tips. He's not exactly the king of relationships, but he's married so I figured he had to know something," Dean told them.

"You have a friend in South Dakota?" Garcia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he tied to help when we passed through there. I was maybe six or seven and he taught me how to leave a paper trail for the FBI to follow. He gave me a card with his number on it and I called him whenever I could. He and his wife sent in some of those anonymous tips to you guys."

"Why didn't you run away to him when you were in foster care, or when you were still with your dad?" Morgan asked.

"Cause dad knew he tried to help us. That's why we left South Dakota. And it was too far for us to leave when we were in Ohio."

"And you still kept in touch?"

"Yeah, didn't have a reason not to. He was really happy when I told him that we were here and safe."

"You have any other friends?"

"There's the priest in Minnesota."

"You're friends with a priest?"

"He sent in some of those tips too," Dean said, leaning back. He stifled a yawn.

"I'm getting kinda tired. I'm going to bed, see you guys later." He gave Garcia a quick hug and Morgan a high five before leaving the room. Garcia and Morgan looked at each other and quietly discussed what he had told them."

* * *

Dean lay back on his bed and closed his eyes. He pulled the cell phone J.J. had given him from his pocket and dialed a now-familiar number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," Dean said softly.

"It's kinda late, what's going on?" the soft female voice asked, not really sounding all that upset at the time of night.

"Nothin'," he drawled, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, right, Dean, you don't call just to talk to me. When you call, there's always a reason behind it." She was smirking; he could practically hear it through the phone.

"Alright, so maybe there is a reason I'm calling."

"What's up?"

"Jo, J.J. knows that something's going on. She doesn't know who you are or anything, but she's gonna start asking questions."

"My mom's been asking too. Ash knows, but he won't tell anyone."

"What about your dad?"

"He's pretty clueless when it comes to this kind of thing."

"Well that's good for me," Dean laughed.

"You're tired," she pointed out gently. "I can tell from here."

"You would be too if you had to deal with a sick thirteen year old and a sick six year old."

"Poor baby."

"It's a tragic life."

"Close your eyes," she said spontaneously.

"What?"

"Just do it."

"Okay…"

"Now, just listen." He heard music start playing in the background. He recognized it as REO Speedwagon's _Can't Fight This Feelin' Anymore_. He smiled as he heard her start singing along with it. The song ended just as he was dozing off.

"You asleep yet?" she whispered.

"Mhm." She laughed.

"Goodnight, Winchester." She listened until she heard his breathing deepen as he fell asleep. She chuckled to herself before she hung up.

* * *

Dean woke up as someone prodded his shoulder. He sleepily opened his eyes to find a little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy standing beside his bed. He looked at the clock and saw the bright red 3:27 glaring at him. He groaned and patted the bed beside him. Henry climbed up next to him and curled against his side. Dean wrapped an arm around the feverish little boy and, before he could change his mind, sent a quick text to Jo.

"I want to meet."

"We already met." She was still awake?

"I mean in person."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

"I dunno, I was hoping you had something."

"Well, it looks like you'll just have to be patient."

"I'm terrible at being patient."

"Will you wait, though?"

"For you? Always."

* * *

**Fin**

**Sorry to anyone who doesn't ship Jo/Dean. I love them and Jo was created with the purpose of being a female Dean equivalent so…**

**I do know how I want them to meet, but I would like to do more with Dean being seventeen before I get to that. Do you want to have J.J. meet Bobby and Karen? Do you want Dean's graduation from high school and applying to college? I don't have anything else written cause no one tells me what they want, so I really need some prompts here. ****Also, if nobody has more ideas, I'm going to post the chapter that I have written but not typed where they actually meet. And I have two more chapters written, but they jump to Dean being older and then older still. do you guys want me to write a chapter where he meets NCIS and helps them out, or do you want more of him growing up, cause if it's the latter I need prompts.**


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